Friday Poetry

So for this friday’s poetry I thought I would share with you all a poem from my childhood. I recently found an old poetry book that I had when I was very young and I have been re reading it. I have chosen a Dragon related poem because Dragons are brilliant!

The Sleepy Dragon

 

A dragon awake

in his mountain lair

where he’d slept

for a thousand years.

 

His treasure was rusty

his scales were dusty

his throat was dry

his wings wouldn’t fly

his throat was croaky

his fire was smoky

his eyes weren’t flashing

his tail wasn’t lashing

his claws couldn’t scratch

though he tried.

 

So he sighed

and stretched himself

over the floor

and went back to sleep

for a thousand years more.

Irene Rawnsley

 

Lady Book Dragon

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Happy St Valentine’s Day!

Happy St Valentine’s Day Everyone!

I hope you all get some wonderful books off your Valentine’s.

I know it is not Friday but I just had to share this special poem about love with you all. I think Robert Burns sums it up perfectly.

A Red, Red Rose

My love is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June:

My love is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in love am I:

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

 

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:

And I will love thee still my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only love,

And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my love, 

Thou’ it were ten thousand mile.

 

Robert Burns

 

Lady Book Dragon

Friday Poetry

This poem I chose because believe it or not I am currently doing a Chicken Behaviour and Welfare course online with Edinburgh University. After owning chickens for quite a few years I decided to learn more about them. After all you are never too old to learn new things.

Also this is my 100th blog post. Thank you for all the ‘likes’ and ‘follows’ everyone.

Cock – Crow

Out of the wood of thoughts that grows by night

To be cut down by the sharp axe of light, –

Out of the night, two cocks together crow,

Cleaving the darkness with a silver blow:

And bright before my eyes twin trumpeters stand,

Heralds of splendour, one at either hand,

Each facing each as in a coat of arms:

The milkers lace their boots up at the farms.

Edward Thomas

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This was the first cockeral that I ever owned his name was Charles and his hens were Queen Elizabeth, Eugenie, Victoria, Diana, Beatrice and Catherine.

Happy Friday Everyone!

Lady Book Dragon.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire by Gerard Manley Hopkins (Review)

As Kingfishers Catch Fire by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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About the author

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Gerard Manley Hopkins was born on the 28th July 1844, he was an English poet and Jesuit priest. His two main themes in his poetry are nature and religion. He died in 1889 of what is believed to be typhoid fever. His work was largely ignored during his life but was published posthumously.

Blurb

Considered unpublishable in his lifetime, the Victorian priest’s groundbreaking, experimental verse on nature’s glory and despair.

Review

Oh dear, as I have mentioned in the past I struggle with poetry and this book has been a massive challenge and although I persevered I did not enjoy the poetry.

The second book in the Penguin Little Black Classics is a series of poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins and titled after possibly his most famous poem As Kingfishers Catch Fire.

The main thing I struggled with was that I found the poetry stilted and lacking fluency. I also found his use of imagery a bit strange and his wording a struggle to grasp.

Overall I just struggled full stop and would not read anything of this author again, if it was not for the fact the book was so short I doubt I would have finished it. I have problems appreciating poetry but have recently been enjoying reading through some poetry books and discovering new poets that I enjoy to read. Sadly though this book did not appeal and I only give this little book of poems 1 dragon out 5.

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Friday Poetry

Happy Friday! The first snowdrops are out so I thought a suitable poem was needed.

 

To A Snowdrop

Lone flower, hemmed in with snows, and white as they
But hardier far, once more I see thee bend
Thy forehead as if fearful to offend,
Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay
The rising sun, and on the plains descend;
Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and its frolic peers;
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,
Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring,
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!

William Wordsworth

 

Lady Book Dragon.

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Friday Poetry

Happy Burns Night everybody! I thought we needed a suitable poem to celebrate the occassion.

A long time ago I bought a wonderful book full of all of Robert Burns poetry and songs and since then I have dipped in the book occassionally to read some of the poems and songs. I think Burns most famous poem is the one I have chosen below. I hope you enjoy it!

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Address To A Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin’-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye worthy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit’ hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect scunner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis

 

Lady Book Dragon

Friday Poetry

Today is A. A. Milne’s birthday! So I went for a suitably related poem. I hope everyone has a good weekend planned ahead of them.

The King’s Breakfast

 

The King asked

The Queen, and

The Queen asked

The Dairymaid:

“Could we have some butter

The Royal slice of bread?”

The Queen asked

The Dairymaid,

The Dairymaid

Said: “Certainly,

I’ll go and tell

The cow

Now

Before she goes to bed.”

 

 

 

The Dairymaid

She curtsied,

And went and told

The Alderney:

“Don’t forget the butter for

The Royal slice of bread.”

The Alderney

Said sleepily:

“You’d better tell

His majesty

That many people nowadays

Like marmalade

Instead.”

 

 

The Dairymaid

Said “Fancy!”

And went to 

Her Majesty.

She curtsied to the Queen, and

She turned a little red:

“Excuse me,

Your Majesty, 

For taking of 

The liberty,

But marmalade is tasty, if 

It’s very

Thickly

Spread.”

 

 

 

The Queen said:

“Oh!”

And went to 

His Majesty:

“Talking of the butter for

The Royal slice of bread,

Many people

Think that 

Marmalade

Is nicer.

Would you like to try a little

Marmalade

Instead?”

 

 

 

The King said:

“Bother!”

And then he said

“Oh, deary me!”

The King sobbed: “Oh, deary me!”

And went back to bed.

“Nobody,”

He wimpered

“Could call me

A fussy man;

I only want

A little bit

Of butter for 

My bread!”

 

 

The Queen said:

“There, there!”

And went to

The Dairymaid.

The Dairymaid

Said: “There, there!”

And went to the shed.

The cow said:

“There, there!

I didn’t really 

Mean it;

Here’s milk for his porringer

And butter for his bread.”

 

 

 

The Queen took

The butter

And brought it to

His Majesty;

The King said:

“Butter, eh?”

And bounced out of bed.

“Nobody,” he said:

As he kissed her

Tenderly,

“Nobody,” he said,

As he slid down

The banisters,

“Nobody,

My darling,

Could call me

A fussy man-

BUT

I do like a bit of butter to my bread!”

 

A. A. Milne

 

Lady Book Dragon.